A Long Papyrus Bridge

Father
I like to read your letters
written on something like
what I use to roll around
a filter and loose leaf cut
of choice homegrown to

bacco before I set fire to one end and suck as a straw 

and blow out of my nose, thick clouds of white smoke

but were they gray when Rome was burning; you know

why they said it was us, right?  It's because we wouldn

't sing the theme song; they were so pissed when they 

found out and do you remember our smiles as we remai

ned seated at the ball game
?  because I can remember
you saying something about
his mother and I can remem
ber you looking into my soul
Father

did I know you?
before? because
you have built a
long papyrus
bridge that
stretches all the way out from your little Mediterranean island across a faithless Atlantic

and
a couple thousand years

and your ink mixes with the blood in my veins
what color does the combination of red and
black make? does it swirl as it would in a
syringe? because your words are the
wings of a dove and a black crow,
too and we caught them plotting
murder like a board-game of
Clue we know who tied the
noose and they put us
down dear father like
a lethal injection they
grind on those same veins that I mentioned before, they twist the same chest cavity that you once smoothed  dear father and the 3:19 a.m. no longer feels ok because we are dining on our own ashes here - at least, I am - and you kept trying to tell us, you kept saying those same words over and over - you said, "Get it son.  Catch this and run with it." in that voice so familiar it sounded like a neighbor

no,
better:
a savior

your ink cleanses the bloodstream

do you understand that father?
I pray to you, just like the Catholics
and I won't apologize for it
and I'll pray to every saint in the library before I go back to the church where they told me not to

My Scars, Too Are Real

When the color of hope
touches your skin
leaving small scars
I hope you will
remember it

because at the end of the day
when we put away our tools and
our drive home is complete and we begin to unwind
it's the color of hope that will lead us calmly and cooly
to our beds

and when the autumn fragrance dances with the color orange
will you also, dance with me?
I ask this because my scars, too
are real

Our Mother...

We are your babies
you are our mother
soft, pasty and cool
across the top of your exposed skin
the warm red runs in webs beneath

Your joy is in a
wildflower's colors
because your smile is
as bright as the sun's illumine
projecting petal colors as windows

read and blue
and gold and green
touch the ground beneath
where we kneel but we do not kneel
the way you want us to mother
and you don't understand
mother and we are
often unloving
toward you mother

but all is well mother, you always forgive us, give us, hold us
touch us, envelope us as a bright warmth remember us,
sing to us, hear us when we cry,
hold us when we die



-JM 2011

Blood Makes Safety

a burgundy color
and a brown scab
as blood clots
this blood I give to you in platelets
you gonna break my heart?
you gonna continue?
and ah
tonight
is a plethora
of pleasure as you
drink the blood of enemies
"blood makes safety" you say
sacrifice to national deity
"blood makes safety"
you say
"can't you see that
blood makes safety?"

and now I've decided to continue
to give to you
though my heart may break
listen to it palpitate
satiate my love
I too believe
blood makes safety
in a way that is much different than the way you believe
blood makes safety


-JM 2011

Christian Easter Poem

because the earth is dirt, man
and that's it

you come from it and go back to it
and sometimes we hear another song
and that means that we will come back again
that is all

What you mean by that?


Well, it's kind of like smoke;
smoke can't ever be something
else can it?  It's really neat
to go into the earth
knowing you'll
come out of
it again
right?


-JM 2011

Children of Abraham

They are force feeding
you a pill little baby
I'm pretty powerless
to stop them

running mad in your
town and I cry that it has
to be blown up and
that our religious leaders agree with your religious leaders that someone has to die in AllahJesus' name

from my ivory
tower I see
but on my pillow
I cry

myself to sleep
take my anger
take my rage
not from me!
Don't rob my humanity may my sould grind with yours and we will sit shiva and shiver inside and shudder

Mourning is Reason Enough

mourning is reason
enough for lying down
in the dirt that slips
through my hands
like powdered milk

my dreams slip
through, too
sometimes she talks to me; she is the girl I missed in Junior high the muse that allowed me to die inside and we all remember the tears when our shaman left our tribe if we had only sat and listened a little more I wouldn't wake from darkness because I don't dream anymore and that's a damn frightening place to be because I want to be with you when I sleep and I would like to see something other than black when I close my eyes and lay down

I don't want truth
barreling down on
me dogmatically

dig?

I don't want a sing-
song symphony
feeling sorry
for me

dig?

I want to go back
into the dust and

I want to be
made again

you dig?

The Sinner's Prayer

lord Jesus

won’t you

bail me out

I have no bank

but I have a family

to feed and for once

I’d like someone to wash

my feet in something

other than fossil

fueling wars

overseas

lord Jesus

won’t you

terrify because

I’m terrified and

I would like to see

public libraries stay

open in my neighborhood

I know I that I too

would like a

tax cut but

what I

have given to Caesar I’ve given in your name

to the smart bombs and to create corpses

instead of bread I make the sign of

the cross instead and stay awake

at nights dreaming of why

and I want my anodyne

I want my medicine

now more than

ever

lord Jesus

can we collectively

bargain with you because

what we seen on the news

we would not

like to be true

  

lord Jesus

cancel my subscription

to the church of the Czar

I want a freakshow

festival with the

damned for

eucharist

just because I couldn’t make it sinless

I couldn’t fake it sinless

I wish I were sinless

faultless

I confess

and I know you’ve heard it all a thousand times

and I’m still on my knees in front of this mirror

that shows only poor old self-deprecating me I

wish I were poor and I wish I were rich and I wish

that somewhere between heaven and hell I could

punch Dante’s infernal views because lord Jesus

I want you to go to heaven too

lord Jesus I want you to be allowed

in

heaven

too.

  

Ash Wednesday: The Great Hawk Cometh 

Still

a gray hawk
and we are
one
and alone
and comforted

blanket me
that I may be quiet

and covered in all my sins
my bones are white and I
and everyone else can see
them popping through my
mortal flesh which is hushed by a dark cloak

fly down now
great hawk and give us
eyes to prey that we too may
tear into flesh after today


-jm 2011

1984 Was a Novel, Not an "How-To" Manual

Why did our teachers burden us so?
Ignorance is indeed bliss
they say never to use cliches
in a poem

and my copy of 1984 stares
at me from across the room
I am too terrified to pick it
up

the couch is your friend
my friend says
and indeed it is
rocks will speak out for me if I don't
so I should consider this my
privilege

-JM 2010

Creeds Will Not Save

A fragrant smoke
in the gypsy room
arises
candles beneath
Christ and Theotokos

and a cherub candle
illumines
the hour of our
desperation

creeds will not save in this dark hour

 

For a Certain Artist to Whom I Owe Recognition for Recent Inspiration

I always listen dizzy to this
dude on the West coast
I wonder if he thinks as
strangely as I do

I always listen dizzy do this

dude on the West coast

I wonder if he thinks as

strangely as I do

This sounds like song lyrics and are a tribute to you

and your guitar

plucking why 

does the world turn because you seem to know more than I do 

am I missing some strange life or 

death?

Maybe one day

I'll meet you

like the mornings 

I meet with Cigarettes
and Coffee

did you know

cool autumn air is my favorite by far 

do you ever

wonder if music can be a holy sacrament?

I know my regrets well

left one in a Port Townsend 

Hostel

I always listen dizzy to this

dude on the West coast

I wonder if he thinks as

strangely as I do

I always listen dizzy do this

dude on the West coast

I wonder if he thinks as

strangely as I do

This sounds like song lyrics and are a tribute to you

-jM 2o1O

One and One Equal One

How could it be so good?

And how could

one and one equal one?

this is a love

poem 

silly 

and my wife is somewhere near the ocean

and sometimes we are a blanketed boat 

tossed to 

and fro

this is a love

of my life and the evening 

sun sets sweet

down upon our bedsheets

Oh, How I Desire To Be Somewhere Else

Am I in a car
going north
or am I here
discouraged

and hardly breathing?

This Small Death

I would advise
you take that path
enjoy every scar
from every thorn

like a masochistic Eucharist
drink of your blood
and your own
flesh
because,
you know, man

suffering is good for you 


-JM

Roots

They are trying to
plant me
and I am without
roots

ever the gypsy
ever the spade
ever the thorny
bush

beneath the blade
and I want to
and I want you

be planted
I know where
yes, I know where

it is not here.

You asked us what
was important and what
in that room, that evening wasn't?

Blessed Fiction of the Evening

Where is the

bliss dream calling

from because I want to

hear it love

I am now getting

the blessed fiction

of the evening

when the sky is orange

and purple

intoxicate
when you
were once
sober and 

what ever
egg yolk
and butter
will take us
to the other
side the yellow sun and if you will walk with me to the edge of this ocean cliff where stones are smashed by the breeze I wonder if all the great things were just a dream - just a liberated fantasy - and will the twisted trees of reason bring us cruelly back or solemnly stoned?

-JM 2010   

Prophets

No revolution

and no over turning

the chairs

no removal of the

heads though we

thought you would

change when you

heard that love was actually an option

but you didn’t believe

it

and now we are here

with shrugged shoulders

-JM 2010

Schlafen

There is a place for it
and it is an empty side
walk on an empty side
street with no cars or

foot traffic rumbling by
but no hay bails either
just a couple of drops
of water falling from a

now grey sky

hmm... concrete and glass
seem so cold but why are
we so at home in them
and why are we not awake

yet?



-JM 2010